


Crime and Punishment

by mosomacilany



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Drama, Guilt, Redemption, Remorse, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 07:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4910794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosomacilany/pseuds/mosomacilany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Warden has released Jowan from the dungeon and allowed him to walk away. But can he walk away with the weight of his crimes?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crime and Punishment

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Dragon Age Fanfiction Writers Monthly Minor Character-Writing Challenge.

Redcliffe Castle became more and more distant with every step. The cracks on his soul became larger with every step. The guilt, the remorse, the loss of a true friend, maybe his only friend, carved deep and invisible scars on him.

 _Run. I never want to see you again._ Amell’s last and cold words cruelly echoed in the deep dungeon. He didn’t expect such mercy from her. He betrayed her, misled her in his mist of desperation to escape from Tranquility. Jowan left her and Lily there in the claws of the templars. He was a failure.

That was the first mistake of his many.

In his cell he had time to think about his first crime. But what was exactly his first crime? It was hard to decide. When he fell in love with a girl he wasn’t supposed to? When he let the envy overwhelm him because of the talent of his only friend? Or when he stole that tome about blood magic? What was his original sin?

Being born with magic.

He was a sinner in the eyes of the Maker from the very first moment he opened his eyes to this world. When his magic revealed his mother's kindest word of him was maleficar. He wasn’t her son anymore. He became the property more likely the prisoner of the Chantry.

The Circle.

What an elegant name for a prison. The Chantry sisters, the templars, even his mentor indoctrinated one thing into his mind. _Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him._ He heard that bloody proverb for a countless times. Being a mage was a curse. He was a criminal, an abomination, a monster without committing any crime. He never wanted this 'gift' and he wished if only he could get rid of it, give it back to the Maker. Of course there was a solution, as always…

Tranquility.

An elegant word again, this time for castration. You can give back your gift to the Maker and pay with your life for it. Walking on the earth like an empty husk, without past or future, without your dreams and emotions. Starring to the void with glassy eyes, enduring atrocities of the templars and mages, who once you may called friends, with stoic resignation. Being a Tranquil was worse than death. And they wanted to make him one.

Lily knew that. She was the only beauty in that storm of despair. A Chantry initiate. She was forbidden for him to touch or even think about her. She was pure and innocent and she loved him. He never even dared to think about love but when it happened he would have done anything for it. Was he a fool that allowed some hope for himself?

Amell helped them, without question, without doubt. He never dared to tell her about blood magic. She was the shining star of the Circle, the favorite of the First Enchanter. She could have been anything and he stole this from her. He rewrote Lily’s, Amell’s and his own destiny with blood. It was indelible and irreversible. His weakness and cowardice marked all of them.

He passed through the town of Redcliffe, witnessed the destruction he indirectly caused. He was the responsible for Connor’s madness. Another crime sits on his soul. He saw the piles of dead corpses, the trails of the battle. The mourning people with the blame in their eyes. The rabble always wants a scapegoat, and they will definitely find him in Redcliffe Castle. A little boy, who was just the victim of the course of events.

It was so convenient. Loghain took advantage on his desperation. And he was fool enough to fall into his trap. He poisoned the Arl and drew his son to the arms of the demon. Jowan knew Connor was unstable, sensitive to possession. The boy didn’t matter, only his own survival. His mother was so desperate to not lose him, to conceal his magic, his ‘gift’.

Connor was a good lad. And once again he rewrote somebody’s destiny. He only wanted to save his father. And now, no matter what will happen with him, he will always be the one who caused the destruction of Redcliffe. He stigmatized the boy, as he did with Lily, Amell and himself.

It was surprising how easy to summarize a life of a fallible man, to account his dreams, his loves, his regrets and his failures. Jowan knew that one day when he stands before the Maker, his sins will be lead-heavy and his good deeds feather-light. Even the blessed Andraste herself couldn’t save him from the eternal perdition. He was damned and brought doom on everybody who he ever cared for.

He reached the gates of the town, the sign of the crossroads. He tried to choose a path. He could run as he did so many times before. Amell released him, gave him a chance for redemption. She forgave him, but he couldn’t forgive himself anymore. He ruined too many lives, caused too many damage to walk away with it. Amell gave him redemption, and Jowan knew there is only one way to earn it.

He stood once again at the gates of Redcliffe Castle, at the bloodstained courtyard and prayed.

 _Blessed are they who stand before, the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter._ He ascended the stairs, fixating his glance on the huge two-winged door.

 _Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just._ He tried to recall the face of the ones he loved, the ones he cared for, the ones he ruined.

 _Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow._ They gave him courage, they gave him redemption, and they gave him a final peace.

 _In their blood the Maker's will is written._ And he stepped through the door to face the ultimate justice.

* * *

“What should we do?” asked Amell from the others. “The Circle has fallen; we have no aid from them.”

“We can kill him or use a blood sacrifice to reach his spirit stuck in the Fade” a black-haired woman provided the answer.

“Sacrifice?” Amell exclaimed. She always disgusted blood magic and this fact just made Jowan’s betrayal more painful. “And who do you want to sacrifice, exactly?”

This was his time, his moment of truth. “I’ll do it. I’ll be the sacrifice.” And he stepped forward, walked to the middle of the room, followed by the incredulous, disdainful or astonished glances.

“Jowan! What the hell are you doing here? I thought I was clear.” Amell’s voice was filled with sorrow and regret, but never with hatred.

“I’m here to fix what I have done” Jowan replied. Once in his lifetime he was unshakable, unbending. For the first time in his life he felt he has dignity.

“But… why…?” Amell’s voice trembled, her eyes glistened in tears. Jowan hugged her and whispered to her ears.

"Am I not allowed to have regrets?"


End file.
